Humectez La Mouture
by Xyliette
Summary: Very loosely based on the promo for 2x07. After Addison tells Kevin about her past, he can't help but wonder and be more distracted than a police officer ever should be while on the clock. Kevin/Addison, one sided POV.


A/N: This was written before last night's episode so clearly the knife thing would be a gun thing...but I'm leaving it. Enjoy-

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Humectez La Mouture  
- Stars of the Lid  
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You don't trust her anymore. And trust has always been a sticky situation for you anyway, from the beginning. You trust no one, except the few brothers on your force who will always have your back – and those people, they've worked for it. Taken bullets and shit, earned your trust. After she gets done reciting her little speech, her painful speech according to the guilt all over her face, you move closer and rub her back. What you should do is be a man, stand up, and announce that this will be ending because you can't possibly see it continuing.

(you understand the baggage and what it took for her to say that, you really do)

Instead, you kiss her and say that it's okay when it's not and then make love to her (and that's what you call it because that's what you're doing with her) right then and there. You'll be gone in the morning when she calls and you'll explain that it was a work thing and she'll sigh sleepily with that cute half smile you have grown to adore. Then you'll make dinner plans and call it a day on talking to Addison. For the time being. And it's mostly just a flat out shame because she seems so perfect, so wonderful and this thing that happened, whatever it was, has nothing to do with you – expect it does and you can't really get around it.

The questions that you have no right to ask like: _How could you do that? Why would you do that? How long were you married? Where there other problems? Do you love him still?_ they plague you all night long, as she sleeps and you watch her lungs rhythmically rise and fall under the white blanket on her bed. Don't ask questions about the ex. Dating Guidelines Rule #2. But your mind is a monstrous spider spinning all sorts of stories...and pondering if maybe, just maybe there's other stuff you don't know about. Stuff that isn't necessarily good to figure out by following through with actions. _Is your husband, correction ex-husband, still alive? Are you secretly schizophrenic? Do you have kids out there somewhere in the world? Is the best friend guy out of the picture? _

(you understand what it's like to not be emotionally available and what it took for her to admit that)

You wondered, previously, why the universe hadn't sent you more women like this. Kinky (you swear to God she's determined to have you on every surface of her house, like it's a christening mission), cute (she seriously has some of the best facial expressions you've seen since you were a kid dangling worms in front of girls in your backyard), warm hearted (that voicemail? You still have it and though you didn't know her then, it hurt to hear, and you wanted to taser whoever it was that broke her), and understanding (more so in the fields of medicine you have found but she follows a play from your book pretty well and seems genuinely interested). After tonight you don't wonder. That's been stripped away, stolen from you.

(you understand what it is to shatter people's high expectations and how much it took for her to tell you about what had happened)

When you work all you can hear is her voice and when you get off, when you sit out on her deck, there is a giant elephant surfing in from the ocean. Because you aren't allowed to ask, and from what you've learned about Addison, she isn't going to volunteer new information. What you want, what you need is to go back. To have her be the crazy girlfriend who is maybe a little stalkerish at heart, to be disillusioned and mesmerized, to be blissfully ignorant and in the honeymoon stage. But you've been given a violent shove forward into coupledom and neither of you knows the appropriate response. What you should do is brush the grains of sand off your jeans, kiss her cheek, and say goodbye for the last time. But you don't. She's got you hooked. You love her and she's not in the place where she can access what that means of even begin to contemplate her own feelings.

(you understand what it is to tell people to just wait it out, to beg for time and how much it took for her to ask that of you when she couldn't give anything in return)

You weren't paying attention. You were thinking about how she cheated on her husband and how he turned around and did it back to her (which somehow must mean that she was worth it enough to try and stick it out for the guy). Sometimes being the hero really isn't all it's cracked up to be. You chase the guy down the street, tackle him to the ground and then suddenly there's a knife in your ribs. If you were thinking, if you were using your damn brain, it wouldn't have happened. The proper protocol would've been observed and right now she wouldn't be rushing toward your trauma bay with some mixed expression of worry and business.

In the end you'll blame her. It'll never be admitted out loud but in your head you will resent her for this. And it's not her fault, not really, because you should've let it go last week. You should've moved on – one way or the other, away from her or with her. But you didn't.

(you understand what it's like to hang on when things are too painful to let go of the little rope you have and how much it took for her to admit that she was dangling)

When she examines the wound, face tied up in a series of controlled movements, you'll flinch and wish it was all over. You'll regret the day you ever met Addison Forbes Montgomery (or...whatever the hell her other name was). And you'll take back your love, never whispering it again, and push until she's had enough because you've already proven you won't be the one to let go. You'll break her heart but she broke your trust. In your mind, the scorecard will be even, no matter the intensity of the suffering on either side.

(you understand what it's like to try and move on with your life and all that it entails, you really do)

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End file.
